


Bury My Heart Next To Yours

by yet_intrepid



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Osgiliath was his first battle and now it will be his last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury My Heart Next To Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nimueailinen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimueailinen/gifts).



> Title from "Ghosts That We Knew" by Mumford and Sons.

It is always Osgiliath, Faramir thinks, as he saddles his horse. It has always been Osgiliath.

Osgiliath was his first battle; Osgiliath will be his last. Boromir saved his life there when he was a cadet of eighteen, but now Boromir himself is dead. There will be no flash of gold on the horizon, no whirl of salvation in the corner of his eye. No shout of his name in hoarse and desperate tones. No vulgar oaths let forth in love and hate and fear.

Osgiliath was his first retreat; now it is his last charge. There will be no retreat today, and no victory. If Boromir lived, Faramir might regret it. Might cling, shamefully, to his own life; might contest, valiantly, such waste of the lives of his men. Might challenge his father—his steward. His lord.

But Boromir does not live, and Faramir finds himself empty of regret. His end is come, as he knew it would, and why should it not be Osgiliath?

Osgiliath was their last true victory. Their last joy before parting. Faramir recalls Boromir upon the rubble, flag grasped in one hand and sword held high in the other. Falls back into the vision of the city that flashed before him from his brother’s few words. _A place of light, and beauty, and music, and so it shall be once more_.

So it is not, and so it may never be again, but Faramir will enter it all the same. Osgiliath is a place of blood and of screams and of darkness descending, yet better to die a sacrifice than to live a slave.

He mounts and rides out with his column. Gandalf is at his side, pleading, and Faramir cannot look at him as he speaks of beauty and memory, responds that he goes gladly.

The words are no lie.

For dying in Osgiliath, he knows he will see his brother running towards him as he falls.


End file.
